


all by and by

by queerofcups



Series: tiny fics for PR [3]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s), POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-22 02:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12471632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups/pseuds/queerofcups
Summary: “Hi guys,” she says,  “And welcome to the panel on our award winning youtube channel, Philosophy with Phil (and sometimes Dan).”





	all by and by

**Author's Note:**

> for templeofshame who gave me a surprisingly difficult prompt. this is a coda to light through an open door and definitely won't make sense if you haven't read that. title is from HNNY's Cheer Up, My Brother. Set 3 years after the end of the main fic.

“And I just think it's so interesting,” the girl chatters at Madison, “trying to use artificial intelligence to locate the moment where sentience begins, thank you for coming, Dr. West, the panel was really great.”

Madison nods and shakes the girl’s hand one more time before wandering out of the lecture hall. He’d overheard something about the coffee at the university’s cafe and he’s tired enough that he’s willing to try what’ll inevitably be a cheap, burned tar masquerading as coffee.

He’s been to 8 of these conferences in as many weeks, he knows what to expect from a university cafe.

He covers a yawn and turns a corner, stopping just short of running into someone--another student, judging by the bright purple of her hair.

“Excuse me,” Madison says.

“Sorry,” the girl mutters, “Sorry, just trying to get to my seat…”

She scurries off in the direction of one of the larger lecture halls. When she opens it, he can see that it's nearly packed and the crowd is chattering with uncharacteristic excitement. Madison, because he’s nothing if a curious, scholarly mind, follows behind her and slips through the doors to see what the fuss is about.

He’s slipped in just in time. Before he can get a good look at who’s on the panel the lights dim and a video starts on the large screen behind the panelists.

“Hi guys,” a pale, long necked man says on the screen, waving. “I know it's been a while but we’ve been busy moving house and things.”

Madison squints, tuning out the introduction chatter. The man looks familiar, but Madison can’t quite place where he’s seen him before.

“And today,” the man continues, “we’re going to do part two of our tour between the queer theory of the early 2000s. Which we can’t do without our special guest!”

“I mean,” a voice says off-screen, and Madison’s stomach drops. “You could. You’re the one with the degrees, Phil.”

That’s Dan. That’s Dan voice off camera, and then suddenly there’s Dan on screen. He’s broader than the last time Madison saw him, the lingering softness of his cheeks and arms smoothed out by adulthood. His hair is a little longer and when he sits next to Phil, the same Philip Madison had borrowed a post-it from in a seminar once, there’s an easiness in the way he looks from the camera to Phil.

Madison watches the video with everyone once, listening for five minutes as the two of them banter about philosophy’s influence on queer theory and, inexplicably, find themselves bickering good naturedly about the Indigo Girls.

Madison’s heart is in his throat.

The video cuts out at a pause that’s clearly not the end and the lights go back up to an applause that’s pretty raucous for academics.

Now, Madison can see the three people sitting at the panel, Dan, Phil and the student he’d ran into earlier, the purple of her hair standing out.

“Hi guys,” she says, and Madison can see her smile all the way in the back of the room. “And welcome to the panel on our award winning youtube channel, Philosophy with Phil (and sometimes Dan).”  
Madison slips out of the lecture hall and sets out to find the cafe.

  
There are a thousand people at the conference, and Madison knows at least a hundred of them well enough to strike up a conversation. He knows even more enough to nod recognition at them. He convinces himself it means he won’t have to talk to Dan. Or Phil.

He’s right, more or less. He doesn’t have to talk to them. But he keeps seeing all three of them. At the lunch plenary, Phil’s there, talking about making philosophy, and academia in general, more accessible. When he goes out to smoke during a break, there’s a group of people taking a tour of the campus, and the purple haired girl is there. Every time Madison sees Dan, he’s staring at his phone, or talking to the girl, whose name is Augustine according to the conference program Madison hadn’t bothered to look at before.

Madison only sees Dan talking to Phil once, but he knows they’re together. They’re touchy, tangling their fingers together, smiling at each other like teenagers.

It's unprofessional, in Madison’s opinion. But it's been three years since he’s spoken to Dan, outside of the unanswered holiday well wishes Madison sends out of courtesy.

By lunchtime on the second day of this conference, Madison’s become an expert of finding Dan in the crowd. He just has to find a gaggle of students and young professors looking to talk to Phil, and Dan’s nearby.

He always was a bit of a hanger on, Madison muses.

He’s gotten so good at it, it's a surprise when the girl, Augustine, sits next to him in the student union, crosses her legs primly and levels him with a look that’s equal parts boredom and disdain.

“Hello?” Madison says, asks, really.

Her gaze flicks from him to look over his shoulder.

“They’re getting married next month,” she says, her low voice cool and unaffected.

Madison looks over his shoulder, as if he doesn’t know who she’s talking about. The gaggle of students is actually forming a half-circle around Dan this time, and Phil’s leaning sitting on the arm of his chair, watching him talk and interjecting. Dan still talks with his hands. He still has that horrible habit of always fiddling with his hair. Madison’s eyes follow the movement of Dan’s hands and yes, when they settle in his lap, there’s a thin, dark band around his ring finger.

It's been three years since Madison has spoken to Dan. The last time they spoke Dan was drunk and tucked himself between his two friends and demanded that Madison get the last of his things out of Dan’s apartment. The last time Madison saw him, he’d been a tiny, dependant thing.

Madison sends him well-wishes every New Year’s Eve, every Christmas Day, and Dan’s birthday. As a habit. As a courtesy.

“Dan’s not allowed to hate you, because you’re his ex and that’s immature. Phil doesn’t care. So there’s just me.”

“And you are?” Madison asks, turning back to her.

She shrugs, “The woman that’s telling you to stop sending Dan messages.”  
Madison crosses his arms, “It's courtesy.”

“There’s no more room for you,” she says. “There’s no crack for you to snake into, there’s no opportunity for a re-do.”

Madison laughs. “Is that what you think? Is that what he thinks? That I’m longing for him?”

“Have you met someone that’ll take care of you like he did?” Augustine asks, uncrossing her legs and standing. “That’ll give and give and give and build his whole world around you?”

“He was supporting me,” Madison says. “He knew I was a scholar. He liked that about me.”

“He started a doctoral program,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. There’s a long, thin scar on her jaw. Madison focuses in on it as she talks. “He did that in spite of you and all the shit you left in him.”

Madison has a response, he has a million things to say, but he doesn’t respond, anger and surprising sadness clawing at his throat.

She leaves and he turns to watch her part the circle and take her place at Dan’s right hand. He smiles up at her and turns back to the student asking him something, leaning forward and nodding. At his left, Phil rests a hand on his back and watches him speak.

Madison watches them all.

 


End file.
